


What the Detective Saw

by ell



Series: The Adventures of John Watson, Closet Dom [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Gags, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ell/pseuds/ell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is bored. He goes looking for Lestrade. Finds him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Detective Saw

Bored. Bored, boredboredbored. Sherlock paces the length of the sitting room and back. Calls for John. No answer. Texts. Same result. Picks up the skull. Puts it down. Picks up John's laptop. Checks his email. Nothing interesting. Manages not to throw the laptop through the window. Checks the experiments in the kitchen. Eyeballs need at least a week before they're ready to stain and inspect. Maggots unbearably slow at their task. Piranha next time? A possibility. No piranhas in the Thames, though. Texts John again. No answer. Damn him and his need for sex. He hasn't told Sherlock that that was where he was going tonight, but really, even a child would have known. She must be quite the looker as John took more care than usual; satchel in hand and the good jeans when he left. Still no answer from John. Maggots still chewing. Eyeballs still decomposing. Checks John's laptop for interesting items in his Twitter feed. Fluffy cows. Puerile. Coat. Scarf. Out. 

Lestrade's flat is almost unchanged from the last time Sherlock's seen it. He still hasn't replaced the ridiculous excuse for a lock that Sherlock berated him about last time. Almost like Lestrade's given him an invitation to enter any time he'd like. But something's not quite right. There are unmistakable signs of a second person present. The muffled sounds he can hear over the telly suggest strongly that there is trouble afoot. Lestrade in distress; not quite Christmas, but better than watching flesh decompose.

Silently, he slides back to the hall, searching for signs of a struggle. None present. Odd. Lestrade knows his attacker then. Knows and trusts enough to let in; no signs of forced entry were in evidence when he let himself in. He sends a text to John and proceeds. Peering around the corner, he can just make out Lestrade, nearly naked and on his knees. From the position of his arms, they are clearly bound behind his back. There's a thick leather strap wrapped around his head. Elaborate gag. The source of the muffled noises, then. Another man comes into view, facing away from Sherlock. He can't see a weapon, but he waits, nonetheless. The man's got his hand wrapped in Lestrade's hair and twists so Lestrade's got to look up at him. Then he roughly rubs Lestrade's gagged face against his groin. Sherlock watches the muscles in Lestrade's arms tense as he fights for his balance. Another of those muffled cries sounds behind the gag. Sherlock almost steps forward. The other man supports Lestrade's head and the tense muscles relax. Lestrade moans again. A bit of saliva runs down his chin. The man rubs his boot against Lestrade's frankly impressive erection. Another muffled moan. Sherlock relaxes. Consensual, then. He'd never taken Lestrade for this type. Another reason for his failed marriage, his wife was possibly the most vanilla person Sherlock had ever met. Also not very smart. Lestrade evidently is better off without her. Sherlock texts John again. A mobile in the sitting room vibrates against a wooden surface.

The man with Lestrade. John. Sherlock knew John's proclivities almost from the moment they met, that was not an issue. But Lestrade. John. John with Lestrade. How had he missed the obvious? The satchel. The boots. The … John. There's always something. John's saying something positively filthy to Lestrade and unbuckling the gag. John turns and catches sight of Sherlock lurking. His eyes widen, then quickly narrow. He crushes Lestrade's face against him again and mouths at Sherlock, "Get out. Now." He looks down at Lestrade and his look is tender, protective. Sherlock's been at the receiving end of that gaze before and he knows that dead cabbies are on the other side of it. He nods and slinks out. Clearly not his area today. He considers where he can find both piranhas and one of those fluffy cows. He wants to see how long it would take them to skeletonize it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the next installment in John Watson, Closet Dom. It's basically a teaser for the kink bingo amnesty fic that I've been working to get finished in the next three days.
> 
> Brief teaser for the next one: 
> 
> John doesn't move from the chair. "Get on your knees." 
> 
> Greg's still staring at him, defiance coming to the fore. He's also still standing.
> 
> "Now, Greg." John's not sure this is going to work, but if it doesn't he has a backup plan or two. He really hopes it does, though. They stare at each other for long seconds and finally Greg slowly slides down, never breaking eye contact. His right knee makes a popping sound when he reaches the floor.


End file.
